Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance to Forget
by BlueBohemian
Summary: Focuses on Meat duringafter Wembley. No Brit, no Khashoggi, just Meat. One shot. Title and additional lyrics property of 'The Eagles' and 'Queen', not me.


**Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance to Forget**

_The beat thudded on, all through the night and the days that followed the Rhapsody. Meat Loaf danced. To those who did not know her, she gave the appearance of being the ultimate Bohemian, all dancing, all drinking, and all living. Living the life of a constant party, in constant enjoyment of the life she had struggled for. To those who did know her, however, she was changed. Her sparkle, her zest, the very things that defined Meat had been lost. Her eyes were still their usual brilliant emerald green, but they were now clouded by a dullness that seemed to obscure her whole persona. _

'I can fly, my friends!'

'_The Show Must Go On' was a party favourite, and was frequently played on the audio system Pop had created, but this was the first time that Meat had even attempted to sing to it, though frequently enticed to sing by friends. Why she did now, she didn't know. She flung her arms wide and her head back, drink sloshing over her hand, and howled the line, the scream drowning out the surrounding noise, absorbed in the moment._

That had been on the second day of the party, and it was now the third. After the initial heavy drinking at Wembley, Meat had woken, still drunk and in an attempt to avoid a hangover, had resumed the party. She didn't care that by the time the party wound down, the hangover would, undoubtedly, be the worst she had ever experienced; she was avoiding it for now. Other Bohemians had followed her lead, delighted by any excuse for a long celebration with few inhibitions. As the Rhapsody and news of the end of Killer Queen's regime tore through Planet Mall, new Bohemians arrived, and because they all came from different time zones, it meant that the party was constant. Though numbers fluctuated, there was always someone for her to party with, for which she was grateful.

The audio system had broken earlier that day and a jukebox karaoke had taken its place. Naturally, Galileo had done most of the singing; he had been keen to share the words he had dreamed with them, and after Pop had taken him to see their texts, it had been hard to tear him away from the podium. She was drunk now, and didn't care who knew, or what they thought of her for it. Through mists of alcohol, noise and the haze of her mind, Galileo's words wafted towards her, infectious.

_How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.  
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget_

_Damn,_ she thought, _he's a good singer_. He had a way of bringing the words to life that none of the other Bohemians did, no matter how hard they tried. It was melodic, soulful; the kind of music that was _real_, the kind that hadn't been heard for centuries. The kind of music that _meant_ something, though what, she didn't know. She laughed, though it was coloured by a touch of bitterness she could not lose. Why was she dancing? She didn't need to, and according to some the party had dragged on too long, and that they needed to get in touch with reality before the old regime made a comeback.

She was dancing because Brit liked her to, she was sure. He'd always liked it when she danced. _You've got the moves, baby_, he'd told her once, and she knew it was true. They'd all said so; she was the best dancer in the Heartbreak. But that was before _he _had come, and left her heartbroken. Damn it, it just wasn't _fair._ Just when life seemed to be on the up, for once, all her hopes and dreams had been dashed, and she knew she could never feel again. Soulless, some would say. A shell. That she merely existed, as opposed to living.

She had hated the dance classes at school; it was all so… contrived. So unnatural. Like their music, it was all pre-recorded, all perfectly choreographed. There was no freedom in it, like she knew there should be, with no way to express individuality. The movements were all robotic and angular, and it fitted perfectly with the backing music; tinny, repetitive, and so… _annoying._

Maybe she was doing it to be spiteful; she was sure _he_ was there. Everyone was; they were drawn to Wembley by a magnetism, an invisible force of power. Why should he be any different? And she could prove to him, to herself and to those who surrounded her, that she was the eternal survivor who could never be destroyed; that Carpe Diem really was the only rule she lived by. That she would seize the day, and live in the moment, and for the moment.

But then, maybe, she actually was dancing to forget. She knew that soon after the music finally ceased people would want to question her. Likely, with questions she didn't want to answer, not now, anyway. So maybe she was avoiding people; since the gates of Wembley had opened, the Bohemians flooded in, and the vibe had swum out, she had barely said a handful of sentences, maybe even less. Certainly, she had said nothing of importance. She had probably been too drunk to request anything other than alcohol, and no one had argued with her. No one had told her that she couldn't go on like this; that she would have to remember and would have to grieve. Dancing gave her something to do, was something that kept her mind occupied, at least as far as maintaining her balance went. In throwing all her energy into dancing, she could be wholly absorbed by it, and could forget the events that led her here. She knew she would have to recount them later, but as far as she was concerned, the number she was when that finally happened, the better. Drink and dance could dull the pain, both physical and mental, for which she was also grateful.

_Some dance to remember, some dance to forget_

The words played on her mind, though she wished they wouldn't. She didn't care why she was dancing. Maybe she was dancing because Brit liked her to. Maybe she was dancing for something to do. But then, she liked to dance. So maybe, just maybe, she was dancing because she _wanted_ to.


End file.
